Nothing is perfect. This shouldn’t be any new news to anyone. Rolling with the punches is what gives life it’s color.
The path I like to take is finding greatness in less-than-perfect things. I like the underdog, the 2nd place prize winner, the odd-man-out, the color brown. But I often hit speed bumps when I can’t decide if the things I’m wavering over are worth the worry or not. Is it worth a full speed stop or just a slow roll over?
I tell myself.. “time will tell”, and then immediately get impatient with that thought. All I do with my life is waste time. The more I do it, the more annoying it is. So, why should I wait around to see if something is worth waiting around for?
I’m pretty neurotic, by nature. There’s no use denying it, I’m an all-or-nothing kind of gal. If I’m not fully satisfied or stimulated, I’ll walk away, slightly angry (because everything’s always your fault and never mine). And I will never look back, because looking back is a waste of time. Many trial and errors have taught me this fact. I’ve become incredibly skilled at the art of burning bridges. This is something that is less-than-awesome about myself that I’m trying to work on. But it’s just so much easier to turn my back and move on, than to confront anything, ever, in life, ever.
It’s also easier to just never get attached to anything or anyone, ever. Then, you have nothing to turn your back on or walk away from! Everyone’s happy! Yay!
Something came up recently, an old journal entry, that reminded me of a very long ago ex-relationship that I had mostly forgotten all about, or at least pushed it out of mind. But of course, this got me thinking about it. How much emotion was there, how much I just didn’t care, how the tables turned so rapidly.
Not only that, but I also came across an old CD of an even older ex-relationship. His band. Of course, all the songs on this CD are of our very painfully failing relationship, at the time. Looking back, it’s amazing how much it never mattered to me, at the time.
And then there was one who sounded like he would die without me and once he got my full attention, it was “too serious for him”. And then, immediately (note: within the hour) found someone else to die for… who had a kid. How’s that for too serious?
And then there was one who would be codependent, insistent on talking every single day, sharing everything, force domestication out of me, push me outside of my aloof comfort zone, until I finally found comfort in his company, and then he would disappear for days, without a word. Repeat steps 1-3, until I go insane.
And then there was one who said he’d secretly longed for me for years and years. Even moved across states, just to be near me. But then, disrespected me, made me feel not good enough, blamed me for all of his problems, drained me of money, talked down to me in front of others, treated anyone and everyone better than he treated me, and actually hit me.
I wonder why I have such a fucked up sense of detached intimacy? The above is the gist of it. And not just and only these examples, there are more that I would have given the world to, bent over backwards for, gladly done anything asked or expected of me, who are now nothing more than strangers to me.
I like to pretend that I never loved these people, but the truth is, I did. I loved each and every one of them, with every fiber of my being. I don’t think I know what’s real anymore. For so long, I just didn’t care. Now that I do, it just gets progressively worse every time.
There’s a difference between being a hopeless romantic and being a hopeless idiot.
I found an old mixed cd my friend Bob-e-T made for me, back in like.. ’04 or some long long time ago, in a land far far away. And boy, is it hitting the spot tonight.
Looooooooooooove Bill Withers. And mixes. Thanks Bob-E-T, I sure do miss you and our lengthy, drunken conversations about how love sucks and people are fucked.
What am I really learning, if I just keep chasing my tail in the same direction? We get stuck in these patterns of always doing the same thing, which always yields the same results. My pattern is a circle, that seems to be getting smaller in circumference, every time I try taking another spin at it.
What direction do you go to get away from your normal, when your “normal” is already so abnormal? I refuse to believe that I’m so terribly unconventional that no one out there thinks the same way I do.
The past couple days, my thoughts are scattered like the dirty laundry on my floor. I have no focus, I can’t concentrate, I can’t hold a conversation, I forget stupid shit, I can’t even form sentences. I am so mad at myself for losing that stupid pair of gloves. What is going on? I’m doing something wrong.
First of all, can I reiterate, once more, how much I hate making plans? How dare someone expect me to rearrange my very important plans for being lazy, only to tell me that they are too lazy? It is nights like these that I sometimes find myself on my couch, with a bottle of wine, listening to sappy love songs (because come on… that’s the only kind of songs that matter), and well… you can imagine where that leads.
But I’m good, tonight I will occupy my suddenly-free-time with my hair! Like an actual girl….. (right? Isn’t this what they do?)
In high school and for a couple years afterwards, I used to always dye my hair darker red. I already have red hair, but it’s not red enough. I finally stopped doing that because I was too poor (wait… ‘was’?). So, it’s been years since I’ve dyed it any color, whatsoever.
But…. I’ve wanted dark, deep blue for years and years and days. I finally have a job where I don’t see customers and my boss doesn’t care (best boss ever award!). So now, I can live-out my high school fantasy of having really cool hair! The first time I tried dying it blue, it came out like this, pretty terrible:
We got a little carried away and it wasn’t what I wanted, at all. And of course, faded super fast so it was easy to fix, dyed back to normal. And then, I got bored and dyed the already faded ends, purple. Only because a friend suggested that purple works best on red hair.
And she was right. I loved that purple. It matched all my green (favorite color, take notes) clothes. I did it myself and it lasted for months. But once it started to fade real bad, I re-dyed it a few times.
I still loved it. But this was a different shade of purple and started to look pink (yuck). So, I got bored with that and attempted blue again. I don’t have a photo of what it looked like after I did the blue myself. Oh well.
Last week, I actually went to the salon and paid a bunch of stupid money to get something stupid done I could have done my stupid self.
And in fact, already needs to be re-done. A whole seven days later. In my opinion, I just wasted that money.
So, I asked my lady-friends: what am I doing wrong? Why does it fade so fast? I was directed to this site of this super cute girl that I wish I looked like. And right now, I am conditioning my hair before trying my own, once again, with the blue dye. Good thing I got a lot of time on my hands, after all.
If it isn’t clear yet: I’m just wasting time, making another self-obsessed post until it’s time to wash this baby out.
During my photo browsing, I found a photo of myself at… must be age 14. After a haircut.
What I love about myself is that, 15 years later, I still have basically the same haircut. Just more of a dramatic slant (which if I had gotten what I actually wanted back then, it would have been exactly the same). The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Five photos of me, in one post! Enjoy! Now, I’m going to go paint my nails. Maybe I’ll make a post about my nail color of choice.
And… because I just CAN’T LEAVE A POST WITHOUT A SONG.
The creepy video to go along with the even creepier (but great) song. I don’t even like Moby.
